


To Find Old Magic

by DraniKitty



Series: Tales from the Garbage Court [7]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Illness, sense of loneliness, theft mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 17:06:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5751220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DraniKitty/pseuds/DraniKitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ross finds an old book and Will comes home sick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Find Old Magic

**Author's Note:**

> This is also being posted slightly out of order - Should be part 7, not 5, of the series. It shows its age a bit in how short it is.

"Trott, Trott, TROOOTT!"

How did he get his voice to sound reedy like that? Trott pulled a pillow over his head, groaning and trying to block the sound out. His one day off... His ONE day to relax. Just ONE day in the week...

And Ross was poking at him incessantly. "Trott, you have to see what I found!"

When he moved the pillow off his head, the look he gave Ross made him recoil in surprise. "Sunshine, this is the one day I get to sleep however long I like. Why don't you go bug Smith?"

Ross pouted, "But Smith's not home! And anyway, he wouldn't know what to do with this!"

"And Sips?" He didn't bother asking where Will was - This time of day, he was off at school.

"I think he's bowling." The bed sagged this way and that as Ross climbed over Trott to sit in the middle. "And he'd know less than Smith!" He held up a book, some dusty old tome. "But look at this! Look what I found!"

There was just no arguing with an excited gargoyle... Trott sighed, pushing himself up and rubbing his face. "Alright, what did you find? And where did you find it?"

His tail curled around Trott's waist, a cool and heavy comfort, as he scootched closer. "You know that old shop, down by the river? I found this there!"

Trott leaned on Ross, staring at the book he held. He knew the shop Ross was talking about. The doors had been shut years ago, not long after Trott and Smith had gotten to the city. They hadn't been the cause of it, of course - Not by a long shot. The owner had simply died of old age, as humans were wont to do. Nobody really went into the shop, human or fae. Something about it repelled both groups. Smith wouldn't even burn the place, and Trott knew he had no qualms about going places fae weren't supposed to. After all, he'd burned the church to get Ross. "You went in the shop nobody's touched in who the hell knows how long..."

He gave an impassive shrug. "It was there, nobody stopped me." Which now that he thought about it, it WAS rather strange that nobody went in there. The whole building seemed to growl at him, but nothing incorporeal stopped him, either. "You wouldn't believe the things in there! And this book!" He opened it up, turning the pages before stopping on one. The script in it was very old, much older than Trott or Smith or even most parts of the city.

He placed a finger carefully on the page, tracing an image on it. "This book has to be almost as old as you are, Ross..." Carefully, gingerly, he took the book, keeping one hand on the page chosen while closing it to look in the first few pages. There were no indications on its age. He turned back to the page, looking at it. "Maybe older." Books that long ago were incredibly rare. To have a book, or even a copy of one, that dated that far back was more than a lucky find.

Ross crossed his legs, pointing to part of the writing on the page. "But look at this! It's a spell!" He looked at Trott, eyes shining. "About making garoyles! Like me!"

Trott looked at Ross, unable to help the smile tugging at his lips. "I'm afraid I'm not in the business of making new life, Ross."

"That's NOT what I was getting at." He shifted, placing his hands on the book. "No, if there's a written spell, that might mean there's others like me!" Smith wasn't the only kelpie in the city. It was something Ross had learned fast enough, back when they'd first added him to their improvised family. He'd thought the girl had been what Smith sought for killing, so intent had Ross been on doing things right, on pleasing his new friends. As it turned out, she was another kelpie, and while they'd had their fun, they'd parted ways and not paid each other any further mind. Ross also knew there were plenty of other selkies out there, but Trott's reasons for not being around them were vastly different from Smith's. Trott didn't fit the selkie norm, where Smith fit the kelpie norm much better.

He wouldn't trade either of them for the world, but the idea that he wasn't the only living gargoyle in the world filled him with a thrill and the realization that an ache he'd felt and been unable to mend with his court's presence was the ache of wanting others like himself.

Trott looked at him, seeing that ache hidden behind the excitement. It spoke silent volumes to him, to the one who'd given up everything with his own kind and their old ways to forge his own destiny, who had traded raw fish in a cold sea for cooked foods in a warm flat. "And where would these other gargoyles be, exactly?" Now he wondered, how many churches were there in the city? How many old buildings, long abandoned, with a gargoyle watching over it for people who would never return? Sitting there in the rafters, in the windows, on the roof, alone with nobody to talk to but the rats and pidgeons.

"Well, at churches, of course!" Ross climbed off the bed, going to the dresser to dig in his own drawer. It wasn't full of clothes, not like the others. He simply tossed his anywhere and everywhere. Instead, it was full of various objects, things he'd found interesting. He pulled out a scrap book, flipping through it for a moment before setting it on top of the dresser. It was full of various things he'd found fascinating about humans when he'd first been taken from the building. Finally, he pulled out a piece of paper, one of many. "Here it is!" He hurried over, climbing back on the bed to show Trott.

"Hold on, hold on." He leaned away, grabbing his glasses off the table before putting them on. When he looked at the paper, his eyebrows went up. "You have a list of all the churches and cathedrals, in the city... Why?"

Ross stared at him, blinking a moment. "Because... I do? I got curious about others..." He pointed at one. "This one doesn't have a gargoyle, I know that much. Sips and Will go with me to it for Christmas mass." It had been nice, to be able to go to churches with familiar services like his used to have, but it still felt lonely, even with Sips going with him. There had been no demands on either end, though, and Sips' open defiance about removing his hat, and refusing to fear the nuns, amused Ross every time. Will joining them had only added to the pleasant feelings, though his reactions to the nuns was markedly different - More of curiosity than fear, if anything, a reaction of somebody not raised Catholic but a whole other branch.

As he read the addresses, Trott quietly wondered how many WERE abandoned. He'd been in the city just long enough to watch the wax and wane of human convictions, and they seemed to shift quite erratically. Most who did more than pay lip service were older, with a few of the younger generations believing just as strongly, but most seemed to have stopped. Finally, he handed the list back to Ross. "So you want to, what, go look at them all now? Ross, half these are still in use, I don't think they'll let us just walk in. What do we even say? Good day, don't mind us, we're just here with our gargoyle, looking to see if you have a gargoyle, too!"

"Well when you say it like THAT..."

He sighed, "Ross.. This isn't something that should be taken lightly. If we find other gargoyles like you, what do we do? Do we steal them away from their churches, too? Would they be as willing to leave and join us?" Would they want Ross to stay? The thought bothered him. He cared about Ross, about Smith, Sips, and Will. To Trott, raised in a communal place, they were more than just his court. This was his herd, his family of his own making. He knew he'd lose two of them eventually to time, much sooner than the other two, but he wasn't keen on losing any of them just yet. Not because they got pulled away by their own kind.

Ross opened his mouth, prepared to retort, then closed it. "Oh... I didn't think about that..."

"Clearly not." Trott took his glasses off, setting them aside. "Look, I know you're happy at the prospect of other gargoyles. Others like yourself. But you have to understand that things may not be what you expect them to. It may not go how you'd hoped. You may find them, and all of them will admonish you for not staying with your church, even though it was falling apart, even though nobody was ever coming back. They might all attack you, for abandoning your post that nobody else cared about. They may even attack you for being around us willingly. Are you prepared for that possibility?"

He pulled his knees up, hugging them. It reminded Trott distinctly of a young kelpie on a rock by the sea, staring out at selkies playing in the waves while contemplating the different ways they looked at life. "They can't be much different from my own mind..." There were always those quiet thoughts, the ones at the back of his mind, whispers of old that this wasn't what he was meant to do. It was a quiet guilt that ate at him, ever so slightly, like rain against stone.

He blinked as he felt a hug, then looked at Trott before returning the hug. It was a moment of some clarity, as he realized how alike they all really were. None of them were where the world said they should be, doing what they were told they should do. They'd looked at the rules laid out before them and what was expected of them and said 'fuck you' and forged their own paths.

Their reverie was broken as they heard the front door open. The distinct sounds of a backpack being dropped and heavy coughing told them it was neither Sips nor Smith, and both detangled from the bed.

Setting the book aside, Ross went over to the sofa where Will had lay down. "Will? Why are you at home? Why are you coughing? What's wrong?" In the whole time he'd been with the Garbage Court, not once had he ever seen any of them ill. He got the most miserable look in reply to his question.

"I think I caught a cold..." He buried his face in the cusion, before pushing himself up to cough.

Trott walked over, placing the back of his hand against Will's forhead as he lay back down. "You're burning up, sunshine. Looks like you're staying home for a few days." He went into the kitchen, turning the kettle on. "Ross, could you go get him a pillow and blanket?" When he returned with a hot cup of tea, he noticed the look on Ross' face. "It's alright, it's just a cold."

"Should we warm him up?" How many blankets would Will need? But Trott had said he was burning up. How could he be burning up if he was cold? He sat heavily on the floor after fetching a pillow and blanket, worry etched on his face. He looked up, only feeling more confused as Trott let out a laugh.

"No, Ross, a cold is... It's an illness. It's a very short-lived illness. People get it all the time, human and fae alike. There's a lot of coughing, and sneezing... Very gross. Sometimes there's a fever, sometimes not... It generally sticks around for a week." He brushed pale hair away from Will's face, watching him drift to sleep. "All we can do is make him comfortable until the worst of it passes."

"Oh..." He looked back at Will, listening to his scratchy breathing. His prior excitement was gone, replaced by worry as he vigilently watched over his sleeping friend.

Now too awake to sleep, Trott went back to the bedroom to read the book Ross had brought home. He eventually surfaced when he heard Sips and Smith return.

Sips looked at the sofa, pushing his hat back. "Damn, he's sick?" He went into the kitchen, pausing at the fridge. "When's the last time any of us were sick?"

Trott watched Smith sit down next to Ross, though it didn't appear he was watching over Will like Ross was. "Ages ago, before you joined and before Smith brought Ross home." He leaned on the counter, arms crossing as he let out a long sigh. "I'm a bit worried, though."

"Why?"

"Because appliances and lights do funny things when Will gets too excited, remember? What will happen when he's sick?" It had been a nagging fear since the first night Will had been in the flat to live. Sips was the only one not phased by the lightbulb bursting. Then again, not much seemed to phase Sips.

Sips took out a beer, walking over to stand next to Trott. He followed his gaze into the livingroom, where Smith was excitedly talking to Ross and Will, not caring that one was asleep and the other worriedly watching. To the untrained observer, it seemed Smith was being rude, but Sips knew his boys far too well. It came part and parcel with being their king. He'd found that Smith just wasn't so great with some emotions, and coping with worry was one of them. So he handled it the only way he knew, talking somebody's ear off. He still acted like Ross was paying attention entirely to him, and as if Will wasn't asleep. The words and the emotion under them would sink in, though, and they'd remember the conversation weeks later even if it had been one-sided.

He removed the cap, taking a drink. After a moment, he looked at Trott. "What do we do if something DOES happen? I mean... One sneeze and this place could go up."

Trott hummed in thought, fingers tapping his arm. After a moment, he looked down at his feet, covering one foot with the bottom of his pajama pants. "We beg his uncle to take us in."

Sips looked at Trott in surprise. "You went right to that, eh?"

"Well, nobody else would put up with us, would they? The only other people who WOULD live in the same building, and they'd probably be out a home, too." But the pair of werewolves at least knew multiple people who would take them in until they found a new place. "Our options would be go back to living in a hotel room, or we beg Xephos to let us in. And with Will sick, Xephos would be the better option of keeping more buildings from going up in flames."

"Smiffy wouldn't like that... You know what it'd mean." Of course the other option being hotel rooms where you had little control over how it looked, and no kitchen to speak of, wasn't one Sips wanted to take. He'd slept on hotel beds, they weren't as nice as a bed you owned, one that belonged to you. Hotel beds, they had the lingering feeling of other people, travelers down the road on their way through the city. But a bed they owned themselves... It felt like the comforting embrace of the people you lived with, the people you slept with, the people you loved. Even if they weren't there that night, or were gone before you woke up in the morning, their smell still lingered, a ghostly hug from them to comfort one into sleep.

Trott let out a quieter hum than before, then turned to make himself some tea. "We'll have to cross that river when we come to it, and hope there's nothing hidden in it."

Sips could only nod, finishing his beer and throwing the bottle away. As he walked into the living room, he ruffled Smith's and Ross' hair in turn. "You two should play a game or something, let him sleep." He sat down in his recliner, stretching out. "Sick people need rest."

Ross blinked, looking from Will to Sips and back again. He let out a small sigh, making sure Will was comfortable before crawling across the floor to the television. "Round of Mario Kart, Smith?"

"Sounds like a plan to me!" As he crawled across the floor to join Ross, he shot Sips a glare at the laugh he let out. "What?"

"Just trying to imagine you like that with a saddle on."

Smith glared, flipping him off. "Oh, fuck you!"

Trott walked in, giving Smith's ass a solid swat. "No, Smith, WE fuck YOU."

Beside Smith, Ross' face cracked into a grin as he started to laugh.

 

* * *

 

The flat was quiet as Trott sat at the kitchen table, hours after the others had gone to bed. In front of him was the book Ross had found, open to a random page as he looked through it. The spells in it were old, centuries old. Some had to be millenia old. The magic that was part of them was so old, he wasn't sure if anybody was left who could even perform it.

It certainly didn't help that a running theme in every spell he looked at was something that, somehow, fae couldn't do. At least they had that one-up on the other courts... If any of them got the book, nobody could do the spells. He wondered, though... Could Will or Xephos? Xephos was a fairly strong witch, and he'd seen what Will could do. But their magic was elsewhere, what they did was different from this.

He looked up at Will's coughing, rising from the hard kitchen chair to stretch and walk over. "Hey there, sunshine... How're you feeling?"

Will groaned, hugging the blanket close. "I feel like shit.." He pushed himself up, rubbing his face. His voice was scratchy and rough from coughing, and he'd started to sniffle already. "I'm so hungry, but I feel like I could throw up."

"That's because you haven't eaten since you got home." Trott reached up, running his hands through Will's hair. "Come on, I'll make you some soup." He tugged Will to the kitchen, sitting him down while he got to work. Behind him, he could hear Will pull the book over, looking at the pages amid coughs. "Careful you don't lose my place."

He looked up, turning to watch Trott. "Where'd this book come from? And how can you read it?"

Trott walked over, moving the book away and setting a bowl in its place. "Ross brought it home this morning. Said he found it at the abandoned shop by the river."

Will eyed the book warily now. "I don't think I trust anything out of that place... I asked Uncle Honeydew about it, he said something about a dragon or something."

Halfway to sitting down, Trott's eyes narrowed. "He said something about a DRAGON? In a shop that nobody but Ross would go into?"

"Mmhmm." Any other words were left unsaid as Will started eating the soup. It hit his sore throat and, while it didn't feel so great, it also felt amazing. His stomach was certainly happier, at least. Finally he shoved the bowl away, empty, and leaned back with a happy groan. "That was so good... Thank you, Trott."

He didn't look up, once again lost in the book. "Any time, sunshine." He turned a page, reading the old text on the equally old paper.

Will watched him, then tilted his head. "I've always wondered... Why do you call everybody sunshine?"

"I don't call everybody sunshine, only the people I know and LIKE." He placed his chin in his hand, elbow on the table, as he looked up at Will. "And as for why I do THAT... Picked it up from Smith's mum. She called him sunshine all the time, term of endearment and all that, and next thing I know I'm calling him sunshine, too. And then Ross, and then Sips... And now you."

"Wait, how long have you KNOWN Smith?" It was something he'd never actually questioned. They'd all known each other long before Will had shown up, he'd just never really wondered about how they all met past Ross.

He tapped his cheek with one finger. "Since we were lads, really. He showed up on the beach of a cove near where my old herd lived, and I got curious. Elders were pissed, but they got over it." He chuckled, then looked back down at the book. It was late and the words were jumbling together now as tiredness began to take over. "That was ages ago, though." He grabbed the joker from a deck of cards they'd somehow procured at some point, using it as an impromptu bookmark. "And because I know you're going to ask, Ross came from a church. Smith burned it down so he could have the living naked gargoyle with the pretty glass dick. Can't say it was a bad choice."

Will let out a hum, then yawned. Even though he'd slept most of the day, he still felt tired. The cold had clearly sapped away more of his energy than he'd thought. As he was guided back to the sofa, he blinked blearily at Trott. "Was I imagi-" His words were cut off as he leaned forward, coughing hard. When it had finally passed, he cleared his throat. "Was I imagining, or did Ross ask if I needed warming up?" He lay down compliantly, nestling into the sofa and the pillow as he was tucked back in.

Trott chuckled, unable to keep from smiling. "Yes... None of us have ever been sick around Ross, so this is new for him." He ran his fingers through pale gold hair. "Get some sleep, sunshine. Hopefully you feel well enough in the morning to kick Smith's ass at Mario Kart." A murmur was the only response he got, before Will was fast asleep again. After a moment of watching, Trott wandered off to the master bedroom, crawling into bed and somehow finding a comfortable spot in the tangle of bodies. It felt strange now, with only four bodies instead of five, but it was probably for the best for the time being.


End file.
